


Marked.

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: Your soulmate mark has never done anything but brought you pain. Why would that change now?





	Marked.

You blow the stray strand of hair out of your face as you stare at your reflection in the dirty Texas gas station bathroom. The old man running the gas station had given you such an odd look when you’d walked in, and you knew why. It was staring you dead in the face. Your soulmate mark.

The mark is no distinct shape, taking up a good portion of your face, and looking more like a scar than anything else. 

You hate it. You’d like to think you always hated it, but that’s not the truth. There was a point when you had loved the idea of such a noticeable soulmate mark. It meant it would be easier to find your beloved, but children are cruel. Children don’t care about soulmates. And so you spent a majority of your childhood being called all kinds of nasty names because of something you had no control over.

Realistically you shouldn’t blame your soulmate. It’s not their fault, but at the end of the day…you still find yourself resenting them. 

If you were to find them, you aren’t sure what you’d do. 

“____, hurry up in there! We already got gas!” Your friend Jessica bangs on the door urging you on. 

A spring break trip, away from your dingy Texas University and to stay with Sarah and her rich family, it was worth the boiling hot ride in your shitty car with broken ac. So you splash the water on your face, and go to unlock the door. 

Then you hear it. A scream. Just one, a loud frightened scream, and then nothing. Silence. 

It was Jessica. It had to be. Before you’d gone in the bathroom it had only been the two of you, and the old man in the gas station. 

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and you’re sure if anyone where to listen they could easily hear it and find you. With panic you look around the bathroom trying to find an exit, and finding none but the door you’d came in through. 

No other plan in mind you make sure the door is locked to the best of it’s ability and make your way to the tiny screened window towards the top of the concrete wall. 

It’s small, far too small for you fit through, but right now it’s your only hope. 

_“Where is he?!”_

You hear a new, unfamiliar voice, muffle from behind the bathroom door. The owner of the voice sounds crazed, excited, and you don’t intend on waiting to find out why. 

**“The bathroom.”  
**

Comes the voice of the old man.

The tiny window won’t budge, and in your moment of fight or flight instinct you bring your fist back bursting it through the glass. It hurts like hell, shards embedding themselves into the skin of your hand and wrist, but you don’t care. All you care about is escaping. 

You don’t think about Jessica. You think about yourself. 

_“Come on out baby~”_

The crazed voice is right outside the bathroom now. He, it sounds like a he, knocks on the door once, then quickly follows it up by several more impatient knocks. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply.

_“Open up! Open up!”_

He starts pounding on the door.

The more you try to for yourself out the window the more glass and cuts you receive to your arms, and that’s all of you that you’re able to fit through the window, your arms. 

**“I have the key you idiot! Stop pounding on the damn door before you break something.”**

You’re screwed. Your heart finds it’s way into your throat where it stays, lodged as you cry out in a mix of fear, and pain. 

Everything hurts and you’re going to die. You’re sure of it. 

You take your bleeding arms from the window sill, welcoming your fate, and curl into a bleeding sobbing pile on the dirty floor as the you hear the click of the bathroom door slip out of place. 

_“Look at you…Poor thing, what have you done to yourself?”_

**“Broke my damn window that’s what he did! You’re going to pay for that Chop.”**

A gentle, yet shaking hand grabs your arm, the dominant one, the one most cut up by the glass, and checks over your wounds. No matter how gentle this man’s trying to be it still hurts like hell.

“J-Just…Just do it already- Just kill me.” You manage out though your pain, head still buried into your knees, unwilling to have the last thing you see be the face of your attacker. 

The man laughs. You don’t understand why he’s laughing at you. What’s funny about this situation? About you curled in a ball, bleeding and afraid. Whatever it is, it’s hilarious to him if the way he hoots and hollers is any indication. 

_“Kill you? Why would I kill you? We’re soulmates.”_

The word sends chills down your spine, a reaction similar to shock therapy to your guts, and you feel nausea’s and lightheaded all at once. You look, you can’t stop yourself from looking, eyes flicking to the face of your attacker. He’s wearing a wig, that much is obvious, and those shitty round Lennon like sunglasses, but he’s right. 

He has the same mark as you.

That same goddamn mark that made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. 

Fuck Soulmates.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a request? mlmdarkfiction.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
